Equilibrium
by nedlovesyou
Summary: "He feels strangely invincible after the words register in his head, like the world could throw anything at him and he could handle it if she was by his side." Cat/Beck. Drabble-esque.


**I don't even really know where this came from. It kind of popped in my head when I was half asleep last night, and I took an hour or so when I woke up to type it out. Take what you will from it, but don't expect a masterpiece! ;)**

**I didn't give an explanation for the Jade/Beck relationship within the story, so I guess you can think of it in your own way - personally, I prefer to think that they've broken up but like I said, think what you want.**

**Enjoy!

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**They're entangled in a mess of blankets, pillows, sheets, and cushions that are strewn about the floor of Beck's RV, evidence of their failed attempt at making a fort earlier in the night. Their eyes are glued to the images flashing across the small television screen that rests above them on his bureau, the faint light from the screen being the only source of light in the dim room. Both are laying on their stomachs, their elbows propping themselves up so that they can see the screen. Cat's left leg rests upon his, and their shoulders brush every now and again.

Beck steals a glance at her when an airy laugh escapes her. Her brown eyes are still fixed on the film, and her mouth is opened slightly in an astonished smile. He feels the tug on the corners of his lips, and turns back to face the screen.

He wonders, randomly, how this tradition of theirs started. His thoughts are pulled in a thousand different directions by the currents of a sea of memories he has of her, and he becomes lost in them for a moment or two. She laughs again, quietly, and he pulls himself back to the present and decides that it doesn't matter how their routine viewing of a marathon of films every Saturday night began; all that matters is its continuation.

When he focuses his attention back on the screen, he realizes that a still frame of Keira Knightly's delicate face is fading to black and the credits have started their descent of the screen.

"That was…" Cat begins, but pauses to search for the right word. In her best English accent, she finishes, "positively lovely."

Beck replies through a laugh, in his own attempt of an accent, "Indeed, miss, it was."

He slides his leg out from underneath hers and pulls himself to a standing position, the blankets falling from around him. His right foot is asleep and each time he puts his weight on it, he feels like a thousand needles are protruding his skin. Cat rolls onto her back and lets out a content sigh as he half-limps to the DVD player and ejects the disc. By the time he puts the fourth DVD into the player, she's pulled most of the blankets and pillows onto his bed and is trying to rearrange them accordingly. He feels a smile tugging on his lips, because he knows that she never makes it through the fourth film, but he can see that she's trying to arrange everything in the most uncomfortable way possible so that she won't be tempted to fall asleep.

He makes his way to the opposite end of the bed, and situates himself with his back against the headboard and his knees pulled comfortably to his chest. After reaching for the remote on his bedside table and pressing play, he turns to Cat and sees that she's given up on organizing it all completely and has begun crawling towards him, dragging a single woolen blanket at her side. She catches his eye, and lets out a laugh as he continues to watch her. Upon reaching him, she elbows his knees until he opens them and then she crawls in between them, turning around to rest her back against his chest and pulling the blanket up to her chin. He readjusts, stretching his legs out around her, and she lets her head fall back on his shoulder.

With every breath he takes, he inhales the strawberry scent of her hair. The aroma is comforting to him, although he's not sure exactly why it is. He supposes that it's just as indescribable as when Cat had tried a few weeks ago to explain to him why she likes wearing his old sweatshirts so much. To him, they're worn and ratty and uncomfortable, but for some reason one of the first things Cat does upon entering his RV every Saturday night is pull open his top drawer and slip one of them on her body. Tonight, she's wearing his light gray Hollywood Arts one from freshman year. The torn sleeves are too long on her and the bottom hem of it nearly reaches her knees, but she wears it with a certain sense of pride that he can't quite understand, just as he can't understand why it makes him feel so happy that she does.

"Beck?" her voice sounds through his thoughts. His eyes refocus to the screen, seeing that the opening sequence of Wall-E has begun, and then he shifts his gaze to Cat. Her eyes are fluttering open and closed, open and closed, open and closed. Her chest is rising slowly and steadily, and he knows that this means she's within her last moments of consciousness.

He doesn't respond, but she knows that he's listening; he always listens.

"You know that moment," she begins slowly, her tired voice hardly audible above the sound emanating from the television speakers, "when you loose your balance… and you're not quite sure," she pauses again, her head dropping to his chest, "whether you're going to fall... to the left or to the right? You're just... completely stuck in time for a second... floating... and nothing can touch you?"

Again, he doesn't respond, but she knows that he heard her and he's waiting for her to continue. Her head turns so that her ear is pressed against his chest, and the sound of the film seems to drown out completely until the only thing she can hear is the steady beat of his heart thump, thump, thumping in his chest, and the only things she can feel are the rise and fall of his chest beneath her as he breathes and his legs wrapped around her.

Through a content sigh, she finishes in a whisper, "That's what it feels like when I'm with you."

He feels strangely invincible after the words register in his head, like the world could throw anything at him and he could handle it if she was by his side. It's in that moment, as the butterflies fly rapidly in his chest and he impulsively slides his hand down her arm to intertwine his fingers with hers, that he realizes he's in love with her and that he probably always will be.

She drifts off into a dreamland with the sound of his increasing heartbeat in her ear and the warmth of his hand on hers.

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**As always, reviews are encouraged and constructive criticism is appreciated!**


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